Shenanigans
by VanguardShores
Summary: It gets really boring during ceasefire, that means the mercs need to create their own entertainment. T for possible language.
1. Demoman

**Some random ficlets on our favourite mercenaries begin silly and playing pranks :3  
**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Demoman

"Come on Cyclops, hit that freakin' thing!"

"What der yer think I'm tryin do, boyo? It's easier said than done."

BLU Scout and Demoman were in the living area at 2Fort, currently they were the only ones there. Bare grey walls with a couple of skewed pictures hung on thin nails. The faded blue couches were a little worse for wear but as comfortable as anything from all the use. A crackly television set was left on and alone by the young sprinter who was egging the blindfolded Demoman on.

Any normal person would see a spiky bomb and run away, possibly calling the authorities.

Demoman wasn't your average person.

He thought it would be a simply marvellous idea to string a live critical sticky bomb to a ceiling light and play piñata with it. With his Scotsman's Skullcutter.

Scout was jittering about due to some Bonk! he drank earlier, well away from the axe and bomb but he wanted to have some fun. And that meant watching Demoman take the blame for any damages caused.

"Just a little to your left. No no no, too far left man!"

"Be quiet boy and give meh some real directions." The Scot swung his axe vertically with force, only managing to air. He then swung it horizontally, clipping a spike on the bomb's underside.

"Oooh! So close! Just a little higher..." Scout directed. Sensing that the coming event would be spectacularly harmful, he slowly crept away to hide behind a couch. The slightly inebriated Scot staggered and again clipped a spike, this time on the bomb's side. Flailing around, Demoman stumbled over his own feet and accidentally let go of the axe which flew through the air and lodged itself in the wall next to the door. Fortunately it missed Heavy just as he entered the living area. Heavy raised his eyebrows and scanned over the scene before him; an axe stuck in the wall, Demoman with a kitchen towel tied over his remaining eye on his behind attempting to stand back up, and sticky bomb suspended from the ceiling and Scout hiding behind a sofa peeking to see if it's safe to come out.

"What is Highland man doing, Scout?" Heavy asked, still with a raised brow.

"I am tryin' ter kill the bomb to death. Now gimme mah axe Baldy." Said Demoman making a grabby hand while steadily standing up while Heavy frowned on the nickname. Scout leaped from his hiding place and tried to pry the axe out of the wall, but it was wedged too deep.

"Hey couldya give us a hand Fatcakes. I wanna watch if Demo can hit it." Holding onto Heavy's enormous arm and attempted to drag him.

"I too want to see if Demoman can cut the bomb. Could be very entertaining! Long time since had good fun!" Heavy grinned and let go of any ideas of health & safety on the base and, with one hand, drew the axe from the wall like Arthur with Excalibur.

"Oi! Doon't touch me axe! It's very precious. Named her Gwendoline. Have I ever told you the story aboot a girl I knew from way-back-when called Gwendoline? She was soooo beautiful an-" Scout cut him off.

"Nah man, tell us that story later. Now play piñata! I'm dyin' to see if you can hit it." Heavy hastily handed the handicapped Demoman the axe and spun him on the spot to face the bomb.

"Dance leetle man. Dance for Heavy and Scout!" Bellowed the Russian, toddling over to the sofa where Scout was hiding. The young man frantically beckoned Heavy to kneel behind the couch just as Demoman started swinging wildly.

"Aaahh! Not one of ya's gonna survive this!"

"Aaw crap..."

"Oh this is bad"

Demoman really started to let loose, swinging and slashing the air, missing the bomb by centimetres. Occasionally he would clip a spike making the bomb jerk on the string, making the now nervous Scout and Heavy flinch in slight (and rising) panic.

"I don't think this is a good idea anymore, big guy." Scout knew Demoman was bad when he was drunk, but given his axe, a bomb and ceasefire boredom, things got downright dangerous.

"Da. This is bad. Will seats protect us?" Asked Heavy over Demoman's calls and faux battle cries.

"Hopefully. Hard hat and Soldier needs to save us right about now. We can't make it to the fuckin' door without having our heads taken off."

Right on que Engineer opened the door and stepped into the living room, hard hat missing and goggles resting on his forehead.

"Nah fellas, what in tarnation-"

**BOOM!**

After the smoke and dust settled, Scout and Heavy peaked over the top of the sofa with raised eyebrows at the scene before them. Demoman was on his back, axe still in hand, with a blacked sooty front and a broken forearm it looked like. Engineer was blown back into the hallway, only his feet could be seen sticking out of the door. The living room was trashed; shrapnel stuck in the wooden table, the television (to Scout's delight) had escaped most of the flying metal and was just dusty. The metal magazine filing cabinet had a few dents in it while Scout's and Heavy's sofa's upholstery was shredded to bits, fluff peaking through the holes.

"Soldier and Doktor will not be happy." Heavy sulked.

"Looks like Cyclops finally got that bomb." Remarked Scout.

* * *

**Who do you want next? Spy, Scout or Engineer? :)**


	2. Spy

**Here's Spy's little slice of the story.**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Spy

Spy was in the kitchen, jacket missing and sleeves rolled up, humming a light tune. He was baking his favourite treat from back home in France; pain au chocolat. With an exotic-smelling cigarette still in mouth he added bread flour, milk, sugar, melted butter, and salt to an amount of dissolved yeast and water.

As Spy continued his culinary journey, Sniper strode into the kitchen to pick up another three bottles of beer for Pyro, Soldier and himself. Spy wasn't paying any attention to the sharpshooter and jumped when the curious Australian looked over his shoulder.

"Never knew you could bake, Spoi. Wha's the big occasion?"

"Of course I can cook and bake bushman. I am French, also zhe 'big occasion' is non-existent. I simply felt zhat moi teammates deserved proper, fresh pastries instead of zhose Twinkies Scout adores so much." Said Spy with slight disgust. Sniper chuckled as he turned to pop the tops off the beer bottles.

"Well hopefully you could turn tha' around, eh? You never know, he migh' devour everything and you'll be on baking duty for the rest of your natural loife." The marksman lightly nudged the rogue's arm playfully.

"I'd rather not merci. Now if you wouldn't mind I'd like to finish zhese off in peace. You'll get a wonderful taste of zhese soon enough. Allez, sors d'ici!" Spy looked up at Sniper and jerked his head towards the dining room, a small smile playing on his thin lips. Sniper held up a bottle in farewell and sauntered out of the sweet-scented room, off in search of Pyro and Soldier.

* * *

"Just a leettle more..." Spy whispered, crouched down to eye level with a weighing scale's dial. He was pouring some white fine grained powder onto the weighing boat.

"Zhis mixture looks wunderbar Herr Spy. Vhat is it may I ask?" Asked a German accented voice. Spy stopped his measuring and sighed slightly through his nose.

_'It would be nice to actually get these done before the end of next week.'_

"Zhey are pain au chocolat Docteur, a favourite sweet of mine." He rubbed his eyes with the back of powdered gloved hand, standing back up.

"It's nice to see someone on zhis base cooking some real food for a change. As much as I like Engineer's barbecues, zhat special quality degrades somewhat after having two steaks and a rack of ribs everyday for about a week." Medic smiled, recalling the fortnight before and looking into the mixture bowl.

He curiously had a few spots of red liquid (blood?) on his face, neck and lab coat. Spy set down the bag of powder, raised an eyebrow at the crimson spots and handed Medic a piece of pastry dotted with dark chocolate pieces.

"S'il vous plaît Docteur. Try one I made earlier. You're lucky, it's still warm." The German gingerly bit into the soft pastry and grinned at the luscious taste and warmth.

"Mein Gott Spy. Zhis is amazing! Zhe chocolate and zhe sugar...how did you learn to bake like zhis?" He exclaimed.

"My grandfazher and mozzer taught me actually. Plus it comes wihz being Français." Spy too eating his own part of the sweet.

"Ach, wo sind meine Manieren? I can see zhat you are very busy, please excuse my intrusion. I will let you get back to your craft. I am looking forward to enjoying more of your baking. Danke." Medic bowed down a little before turning on the spot and light marching away. Curiosity overtook Spy and called out after Medic.

"Docteur! May I inquire as to why you are dotted wihz blood? Hopefully you managed to experiment on a RED oui?" Medic glances over his shoulder and spoke with a small and slightly twisted smile.

"Unfortunately nein mein freund. Scout came to me complaining of a strained quadricep. I honestly don't have a clue how my Übersaw came to be in mein hand..." Spy chuckled heartedly as he turned back towards his scales, hearing the fading footfalls of the ethically-challenged doctor.

* * *

"Rassembler autour de mes amis! I 'ave prepared something special for you all! Allez, ne pas manquer!" Called Spy in the dining room, sleeves still rolled up.

When the team entered the room, they were met by the most amazing, sweet, mouth-watering smell they could remember. Spy had set out plates and napkins on the table, in the centre was a huge mound of chocolate pastries, still warm. Heavy, Demoman and Scout (who was limping rather badly) were exclaiming how good the sweets looked and smelled. Pyro, Sniper and Soldier (who were slightly inebriated) were holding into each other while animatedly walking around the table looking for more pastries. Engineer and Medic were standing with Spy, congratulating him on his baking skills and thanking him for doing this on his own volition.

"Mes amis!" The team turned to look at Spy. "Only a fool-'ardy man would keep 'is hungry comrades from freshly baked food. All I 'ave to say is profiter de votre désert!" Spy clamped his hands together just as everyone pretty much dived for the poor pain au chocolat. Although for some reason Spy edged away from the crowd, a somewhat evil smile crept to his cigarette-holding mouth.

_'Wait for it. Wait for i-'_

"What the holy fuck is in these things?!"

_'There it is.'_

"Chto, vo imya Materi-Rossii v eti?!"

Soldier spat out the pastry as did Heavy who actually bent double and gagged. They were followed closely by Medic, Scout and Engineer. Pyro dropped the delicacy as though it had scolded it and Sniper & Demoman didn't even have time to pick one up.

They all glared at the now-grinning Spy.

Aside from the occasional coughing and gagging, it was silent. In this near-silence Spy calmly held up an almost empty white paper bag with some very faded but visible yellow writing that read 'TABLE SALT'. Medic's jaw dropped.

_'That's the same bag I saw earlier! Why couldn't I read the writing?'_

"It's been a pleasure, gentlemen. Au revoir for now."

Spy disappeared in a haze of shimmering blue, dropping the paper bag just before the furious team pounced on him.

"Ah swear on mah momma's grave, I'll find that backstabbin' snake and gut him like the liar he is!" Engineer raged loudly, heavily resting a hand on his trusty wrench.

* * *

**Who do you want next? Engineer, Sniper or Scout?**

**Translations:**

**French:**

**_"...Allez, sors d'ici!"_ - "...Go on, get out of here!"**

**_"S'il vous plaît Docteur." _- "Please Doctor."**

**_"Rassembler autour de mes amis!...Allez, ne pas manquer!" -_ "Gather around my friends!...Come on, don't miss out!"**

**_"Mes amis!..." _- "My friends!..."**

**_"...profiter de votre désert!"_ - "Enjoy your desert!"**

**German:**

**_"Ach, wo sind meine Manieren?..." _- "Ach, where are my manners?..."**

**Russian:**

**_"Chto, vo imya Materi-Rossii v eti?!" _- "What in the name of Mother Russian is in these?"**


	3. Engineer

**What has Engineer been up to, I wonder.**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Engineer

"Enfineer! Cme out rght nw! Y've been in fhere forefer!" Pyro was at the door to Engineer's workshop, pounding it to try and coax the Texan out.

"Jus' gimme a day or two alrigh'? Come back in three days please." Engineer's voice called from the depths of the workshop. The sound of welding resumed before Pyro could retaliate. Furious at it's best friend's stubbornness the firebug stomped off towards the canteen, huffing through the air filter.

Ignoring Soldier's bellowed summons from the self-dubbed 'war room', Pyro threw open the double canteen doors. Curious looks from Heavy, Sniper and Medic did little to assuage Pyro from raiding the fridge to find the highest percentage alcohol it could find.

"Aye mate. 'Ow's Truckie doin'?" Sniper asked just as Pyro plonked itself down beside Heavy, opposite Medic. Archimedes ruffled his feathers agitatedly and cooed softly on the doctor's shoulder. Pyro popped the cap with unnecessary force and stuck a straw inside the bottle.

"Don't efen get m' sftarfed, Fniper. He'f been in hisf workshfop fr four dayfs nw." The firebug slipped the end of the straw beneath its mask and began to drink. Medic, who was finishing up his dinner, put down his utensils and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. Archimedes hopped down from Medics's shoulder to nibble at some crumbs on the plate.

"Did Herr Engineer give a reason for his unusual behaviour?"

"No! Tht's wht's annying me. He alwys hs a reasn. Fr eferyfhing." Heavy absently scratched his large chin, deep in thought. Suddenly with a flick of a paw-like hand, Heavy announced his theory.

"Engineer is planning something fun! With leettle machines maybe?" Sniper shook his head, putting down his coffee mug as he dismissively waved his free hand.

"Nah. 'member the las' toime someone had fun? Demo blew up half the livin' room. Not to mention bloody Spoi's 'pastries'. Truckie's more sensible then that." Heavy looked disheartened and cast a downwards look.

"Or maybe he's planning to get payback on Herr Demo and Spy. He did get blown zhrew zhe living room door and almost choked on zhe pain au chocolat..." Reasoned Medic, gesturing with his hand.

"No! Enfineer's nt lke tht! He hs elefen PHD's fr Gd's ske!" Pyro retaliated.

"Even the smartes' men will get down 'n' dirty to get revenge. Truckie included mate." Pyro pulled the straw out from it's mask and twiddled with it, chin resting on its other hand.

"Yeh, I guesf. We'll juf haf to wait n fee, rght?"

"Not to worry leetle fireman! Toymaker likes you like brother! O-or sister, I know not which..." Heavy becoming slightly embarrassed towards the end. Pyro just flicked its wrist to show it's lack of care about the others not knowing its gender.

* * *

"God dangnabit. Come on..." Engineer was muttering to himself while tightened a stubborn bolt on one of his sentries. A mini sentry in the corner was scanning the grimy workshop when it stopped at Engineer and beeped happily. The Texan looked up and smiled slightly.

"Ain't tha' a cute lil' gun. Oh yes you are!" He cooed. The dwarf sentry turned its beacon light on and nodded its turret excitedly, beeping all the while. Engineer chuckled and set back to the task at hand; fixing a tank that held the ammunition.

He felt kind of bad for pushing his teammates away over the past few days, especially Pyro. That firebug wanted what was best for him, but he was being too arrogant to accept its offer of casual company. But this project was too important to stop now. He couldn't abandon it even for a few minutes, at risk that Spy may come poking around in places he shouldn't. Plus Spy could pick locks quite effectively, much to the chagrin of Sniper; he would disguise as the RED Spy and scare the living day lights out of the Australian. Engineer stopped working and lifted his dusty welding goggles onto his yellow helmet. He leaned backwards and cracked his spine.

"Ah really need ta do some stretches before battle." Engineer said to his mini metal guardian before picking his wrench back up and set back to work.

* * *

The BLU's were losing 2 to 0 in today's 2Fort battle, and Engineer was still nowhere to be seen. Pyro resorted to protecting Medic's and Sniper's back full time, while Heavy and Scout were getting frustrated that the dispenser was a figment of their imagination that day. The BLU's had almost lost all hope of pulling the battle back, when all of a sudden the stout Texan strode confidently out in front of base to the left of the bridge. He carried an unusual looking toolbox in his arms, like a sentry kit but a little larger and had rusty metal patches all over.

"About TIME you got here grease monkey! We need sentries and dispensers right NOW!" Yelled Soldier accusingly pointing a finger at Engineer. However the Texan didn't seem perturbed at all, rather he just set about his business as though Soldier wasn't there.

"Oh don' worry Solly. You'll have your sentry soon..." Engineer said calmly.

"What the hell kind of tone of voice was that? Do not use that tone with me Eng-" However Soldier was cut short by the loud hissing sound of an air piston. The patched-up sentry box unfolded itself and took its form. But this sentry was different. It assembled itself directly into level 3 and was two-toned in colour; one half was blue an the other red. It adjusted two large tanks into position over each gun barrel and beeped aggressively. Soldier only looked on in confusion at this Frankenstein's monster of a sentry. By this time the battle had pretty much stopped while everyone (RED included) observed the mutated gun. Engineer leaned against the meshed fence and pulled out his PDA.

"Have fun fellas." He grinned mischievously and pushed a button. The sentry focused in on Soldier and shot him. Not with bullets, but with balls filled with red paint. Soldier yelped and rocket jumped away, but the sentry followed him shooting him more. It then turned and shot at the RED Demoman who was sneaking up behind Soldier, leaving blue dots of paint. The sentry picked up pace, now shooting anyone and everyone with opposite colours in sight. Both teams (except Engineer of course) were running around the battlefield trying to get away from the sentry's sights, to little avail. Curses from different languages and shouts of stinging pain could be heard for miles around. Engineer just laughed himself hoarse while sipping a bottle of beer.

"Sometimes ya jus' need a differen' type o' gun."

* * *

**Who do you want next? Scout, Sniper or Heavy?**

**Also I hope you can understand the way Pyro talks. If you can't, just let my know and I'll put translations here at the bottom.**


	4. Scout

**Sorry about the late update. I kinda had a mental block while writing this, plus it's the Easter holidays and had a lot on my plate in terms of family and college work.**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Scout

_Ring ring...ring ring..._

"C'mon c'mon, pick up already Pauling."

_"Our apologies. The Administrator's assistant Miss Pauling cannot be reached at the moment. Press 1 to contact the Administrator's assistant's assistant. Press 2 to conta-"_

"Dammit!" Scout slammed the receiver back onto the hook, cutting the call off. Scout had a great new idea for a secondary weapon for his class, however he couldn't get through to Miss Pauling to approve the change. He had already tried seven times since breakfast and it was only 11 o'clock. He strode away from the phone box with hands deep in his pockets.

_'Maybe I'll try again after lunch.'_

Walking past the living room, Scout picked up distant shouting and the occasional curse. After a few seconds it grew louder and he could distinguish the voice.

Unfortunately it belonged to Soldier.

"If the perpetrator brings back my precious Freedom Staff, I will offer them a slightly less painful death! Otherwise they'll get a CROCKET up the ASS from Ol' Uncle Sam!" Another voice joined Soldier's

"Monsieur Soldier. Would you kindly put down zhat rocket launcher. Medic would 'ave a fit eef you destroyed zhe base." Only Spy could sound both bored and nervous at the same time.

Scout thought it over and decided it would be best to avoid the living area today. He jogged past the the open living room door and headed for Medic's infirmary. There were a couple of things he needed to 'borrow'.

* * *

"Deine Heimat ist das Meer, Deine Freunde sind die Sterne, Über Rio und Shanghai..."

The infirmary was filled with music from a vintage gramophone and Medic was singing along. Archimedes was perched up on the defibrillator with his head under his wing, clearly not happy with Medic's choice in music. Sat at his lavish dark oak desk, Medic sang to himself more than to Archimedes or the other doves. The doctor himself was finishing up reports on the team's physical examinations from yesterday.

Let's just say Medic can play the violin better than he can sing.

Suddenly he heard the double metal doors open then close again with some rapid shuffling over the music. Medic snapped his head up and turned in his seat to face the door's direction. The left door swung a minute amount before stopping. The soft singing and crackling of the gramophone were the only sounds in the lab.

_'Deine Liebe ist dein Schiff...'_

"Hallo?" No reply. Medic slowly stood from his chair and walked to the medicine cabinet. Gripping the handle he shook the doors, confirming the twist-lock mechanism was still in place.

"Archimedes, do you see or hear anyzhing?" Medic said while looking over at the dove. Archimedes lifted his head and peered around. He then ruffled his feathers vigorously, cooed loudly and placed his head back under his wing. Medic frowned slightly.

"Zhank you for being such a big help." Returning to his desk, he sat down an picked his fountain pen back up.

_'Must have been the wind. It is a bit draughty in here actually.'_

Much to Archimedes' chagrin, Medic began to sing along with the crackling record again. "Seemann, laß das Träumen, Denke nicht an mich..."

* * *

Sniper was walking down the corridor where the team's bedrooms were lined, going to find Heavy. He had already read today's newspaper thoroughly and drank his cup of coffee, now he wanted to talk guns and ammo with the Russian. All of a sudden, he heard loud shouts emanating from Scout's bedroom. Thinking that the Bostonian stubbed his toe on the bed or tripped on clothing, Sniper shook his head and carried on towards Heavy's room. Then loud bangs followed by more shouting startled the Australian, he caught "fuckin' Spy!' amidst the chaos. Now completely spooked he dropped his magazine and rushed to Scout's room, throwing open the door.

"Scout, wha's happeni-"

**SPLASH!**

"Ahahaha! Ha, oh God, Snipes you- haha!" Scout was literally rolling on the floor laughing, clutching his stomach. Sniper was soaked from head to waist with water, stumbling back from shock.

"Wha' the actual fuck, Scout! I though' you were in trouble, ya lil' ankle-biter! Why didya throw a fuckin' water balloon at me?!" Sniper threw his hands in the air after recovering, shaking water off his Akubra and tinted glasses. But Scout couldn't care less, he rolled onto his side and clasped a wooden stick with a large golden bird on the top. Wrapped around the the bird's wing tips were surgical tubing with a piece of fabric in the centre. Sniper stopped his ranting and pointed at the golden-topped staff.

"Yo-you didn'? You stole tha' from Soldier? And the tubing? Tha's from Medic. Goddammit Scout, I ain' savin' you." Sniper looked down over his soaked body and plucked a large piece of blue rubber from his breast pocket bullets. On closer inspection, it turned out to be one of Medics's thin latex surgical glove.

"Jesus H Christ..."

Heavy footsteps could be heard coming down the hallway towards Scout's room. The repeating squeaks of rubber confirmed the appearance of the resident firebug.

"I'm comfing Scout!" In a flash Scout was on his knees with tears streaming down his face, holding the modified staff and cocked another water-filled rubber glove against the tubing. Pulling it back he aimed and waited. Sniper panicked and dove to the side, thinking Scout was taking aim at him.

"Bombs away!"

Just as Pyro turned to look into the Bostonian's room with flamethrower in hand, it was greeted with a tidal wave of water. It hit the flamethrower's mouth exploding and putting out the pilot light, as well as flooding the fuel barrel. Pyro jumped in surprise and looked at it's precious weapon, seeing water pour out of the end. A cry could be heard from behind the mask as it hugged the weapon tightly. Sniper tried to calm Pyro down, wrapping an arm around it's shoulder, but the firebug just ran out of room and down the corridor.

"Really? A slingshot? Looks loike you have three people to apologise to, mate."

"I guess Miss Pauling won't let me have a slingshot as a new secondary. Fun while it lasted though."

* * *

**Poor Pyro :( it'll be your turn soon enough. Also the song Medic was singing along to was called _'Seemann'_ by Lolita. Apparently it was popular in Germany in the 1960's.**

**Who do you want next? Sniper, Heavy or Soldier?**


	5. Sniper

**I'm super sorry about the late update, I've got 5 A-Level exams coming up so I was revising. Anyway, here's Sniper's chapter!**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Sniper

"Yer Overdose got delivered this mornin' roight, Doc? D'ya have any spare needles mate?" Sniper pointed his fork at Medic over dinner.

The team were outside behind the base feasting on a large ravishing barbecue prepared by resident Texan. Charcoal smoke wafted gently upwards in the nearly non existent wind. Soldier was shouting at Engineer to stop cooking and to eat something, having prepared the barbecue for the last seven hours. Scout and Demoman were having a steak-eating contest with Heavy and Pyro cheering them on. Spy was simply enjoying the sunshine while holding the ever present cigarette in his mouth. Medic put down the half-eaten sauce-covered rib and dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"An unusual request from you Herr Sniper. Vhat do you need zhem for? If it's for extracting information from a RED zhen I vould love to offer my...expertise." Sniper waved his gloved hand dismissively.

"Nah it's for nothin' loike that. I'm just workin' on something and I need to make the ammo. See if it fires an' all that." The doctor raise an eyebrow.

"You're making a rifle I assume of some sort zhat can only fire syringes? Zhat is razher hard to believe, mein Freund." Sniper leant back in his seat and scratched his chin.

A loud cheer could be heard from Heavy as Scout jumped from his seat and sprinted back into the base, looking rather sick. Pyro's muffled laughter was uncontrollable at the Bostonian's misfortune, clutching it's stomach. Medic sighed, knowing that he would probably need to check Scout over later. Demoman stood up and declared his 'appetite has no match' while taking a swig from his bottle.

"Not necessarily. I jus' need a way to get liquids intah a projectoile. Easier said then done." Engineer's had picked up bits of the conversation through the cheerful din of chatter and couldn't help but give his input into practical problems.

He turned from the grill and called: "Why dontcha hollow out some bullets an' seal 'em back up with super-strength metallic glue?" Sniper and Medic perked up at the new voice in their conversation, thinking over the Texan's suggestion.

"I think I like Engie's idea better. Hey d'ya mind if I use your lathe then after dinner?" Sniper asked.

"Not at all pardner. But no one uses mah machines an' tools withou' me."

"Wouldn' dream of it Truckie."

"If you still vant some syringes, I zhink I can spare a few if you wish." Medic offered, picking up his half eaten rib. Sniper tipped his hat in thanks and stabbed a sizeable steak on Spy's plate, about to place it on his own.

"I was going to eat zhat, bushman." Sniper grudgingly have the steak back to Spy, who still had his eyes closed. Medic smirked at the pair and sipped water from a large glass.

* * *

"So what're you plannin' tha' needs specialised ammo Slim?" Engineer asked loudly over the lathe's metal tip boring into a bullet's back-end. Sniper was at a crowded workbench, pliers in hand prying bullets out of their casings.

"I had this idea yestaday. What if I could deliver a 'surprise' to those bloody RED's? Then I thought to myself: wha' better way than in a bullet, or a needle if it works." Sniper grunted as he yanked a bullet from its casing and threw it into a bucket next to Engineer.

"What're you gonna put intah them bullets? Bits'a shrapnel would useful. Give the RED quack something tah do in the evenings." Engineer took the newly-bored bullet out of hold and blew off the debris, throwing it into another bucket.

The Australian chuckled lightly but shook his head, taking his hat off and placing it on a nearby mini sentry. The tiny gun beeped out of surprise and quickly looked up at Sniper. The marksman raised an eyebrow and the sentry bleeped excitedly for its new accessory.

"Nice idea but liquid's wha's gonna be in 'em. Can't tell ya what it is though, spoil the fun."

"If ya say so Slim. Never woulda took ya for the mechanical kind though." The Texan plucked another bullet and held it to the bright lights of the flood lamps.

"I might not be the smartest guy on the base but that don't mean I got no initiative." Sniper smiled toothily, twirling the pliers around.

"Come on pardner. We got a long way tah go before we see the bottom of that bucket."

* * *

"Ladies! The objective of today's battle is simple; hold the control point for three minutes. Only three measly minutes, maggots! Should be a stroll in the field!" Soldier briefed the team (minus Sniper) ahead of day's King of the Hill battle at Viaduct. Everyone except Soldier himself disliked KotH. But nobody was really paying attention to the helmeted American, but to Medic and his brand spanking new and shiny Overdose.

"Ja, it may do slightly less damage, but I heal people! I don't go running around shooting zhe tänzelnden roten Damen. Depending on zhe percentage Übercharge, it utilises it to help me to run faster! I'll almost be as fast as Herr Scout!"

"Hahaha! Yeah, yeah you wish Deutsch-bag." Just as Scout finished, Sniper strolled in with a battered khaki-green rifle bag slung over his shoulder.

"G'day mates!" He said cheerfully, a wide grin plastered on his face. Everyone except Engineer stared at Sniper as though he had grown another head. Demoman brought up his one-third-filled scrumpy bottle to eye level and said: "Maybeh it's time ter cut down."

"Everythin' all good Slim? How're the bullets workin' out?" The Texan asked.

"Like a dream mate. Like a dream." Sniper out down his rifle bag and unzipped it. Gently he took out an unusual looking sniper rifle with a very long scope with feathers tied to the barrel. Oohs and aahs radiated around the Respawn room, finally able to see the mysterious weapon the Australian was working on.

"At least you used zhe needles I gave you as...decoration..." Medic said pointing to the syringes (now fashioned into darts) in Sniper's breast pocket and the rifle's butt.

"Yeah well, it goes with the overall look roight?" Sniper brought the rifle down from resting on his hip to into his other hand.

**BANG!**

Everybody in the room flinched and a horrible smell of urine filled the air.

"Is this...mon dieu!" Spy was dripping in a yellow liquid and was quickly trying to take his tie and jacket off.

"Er, sorry mate. Wow this thing's got a hair trigger...I guess the Admin allowed Friendly Fire for this battle, heh..." Sniper tried to apologise but was wasn't really making an effort to stifle his laughter. The same went for Scout, Demoman and Heavy.

"Le feu amical mon cul! Vous m'avez tiré! Avec la pisse!" Spy jumped for Sniper with all intent on strangling him.

* * *

**Yes I know you can't shoot teammates OR cover them in Jarate from the Sydney Sleeper OR fire pee-bullets without being scoped in, but that would make for a having boring chapter, wouldn't it? :D I don't really know when the next chapter will be, so take this as an opportunity to decide who you'd want next! :P**

**Your choices are Heavy, Soldier and Pyro.**

**Translations:**

**German:**

**_"...tänzelnden roten Damen. ..." _- "...prancing red ladies. ..."**

**French:**

**_"Le feu amical mon cul! Vous m'avez tiré! Avec la pisse!" _- "Friendly fire my ass! You shot me. With piss!"**


	6. Heavy

**Heya guys! Sorry about the über long wait, I wanted to get A-Level exams out of the way and I had other things to do beforehand. _But_ I've come back fighting! :D although I can't help but feel a little disappointed that no one suggested an idea for this chapter. No matter no matter, here it is regardless :P**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Heavy

"Hey Ma, how're ya doin'?...Nah nah I'm fine Ma, really...Jeez, stop worryin' so much...Yeah I know ya job is to be a mom but Ma, heh, I'm 23! I ain't your 'lil' boy' anymore Ma! I'm a merc!...Yeah, I know it ain't the career you want me to do but it brings in the dough, right?...I'm, er I'm sorry too Ma, listen I need to get back to it. You take care of everyone, ok? Say hi to Dad for me...I-I know he ain't there anymore, but er... Yeah, love you too Ma. Bye."

Scout hung up the weather beaten phone and turn on the spot to head back into the base. Usually Sniper would call his parents back in Australia at around this time, so Scout did him the courtesy of hanging up early. Although the Bostonian was rather surprised to see Heavy trundling out of the base towards the him & the phone.

"Hey big guy, whatchu doin'? Didn' think you had anyone to call." Scout blurted out. Heavy looked at him with narrowed eyes and tightened fists. The runner gulped dryly and immediately took back what he said; he didn't particularly want to become a punching bag for Heavy's next training session.

"I do have someone to call. I have Маma, in Rossiya." His tone soft and calm despite his body language. Reassured by the voice, Scout relaxed and moved out of Heavy's path.

"'S gotta be expensive, callin' Russia. Comin' outta your pay check ya know." He walked backwards towards to base slowly, facing Heavy as he made his way to the comparatively tiny telephone.

"Is worth it. If you would not mind, leetle man..." Heavy looked over his shoulder and gestured towards the phone.

"Yeah sure. Make it quick aight? Dingo's wantin' the phone too today." Scout didn't wait for an answer as he jogged back into the cool of the base. Heavy dialled a rather long number and waited for the ringing to stop. After a while, a crackly female voice came through.

"Allo?"

"Мамa? Eto ya. Ty v poryadke? Kak moi sestry?"

"My delayem khoroshiy mal'chik moy. Vy kazhetes' dovol'no ser'yeznyye, Vse khorosho v Amerike?"

"Da, da, vse normal'no. Slushayte, yest' koye-chto mne nuzhna vasha pomoshch'..."

* * *

About a fortnight later, the bi-monthly postal haul came in. Not so much a haul but a pile of letters and occasionally a parcel, more than likely a box of cookies from Scout's mother. Everyone was gathered round the dining room table sifting through the pile to find their respective letters, the hum of general conversation filled the room. Pyro immediately snatched a large burnt-orange envelope and dashed to the farthest corner of the dining room, squeaks of excitement could be heard as well as squeaks of rubber. Heavy chuckled loudly at the arsonist as his hand found a crudely wrapped brown paper package with a worn photo of himself on it. Picking it up, he was glad his mother could do this for him in the harsh Russian economic climate. Spy glanced up from the three letters in his hands and was curious of the package. Heavy never gets anything more than maybe two letters per haul.

"Monsieur 'Eavy, eet is razher unusual for you to get a parcel. I take eet's from your mozherland?"

"Da, from Mama. Is good to know she is well. Russia is bad this time of year." Heavy said with a slightly forced smile. Spy returned a smile, he had to be tactful to extract Information from his teammates. Even if it is from an apparent oaf.

"Oui, I can imagine. Seeing as zhough eet is cold in Russia and how mozhers be'ave during such times, I take eet your mozher sent you an article of clothing?" Heavy didn't like that Spy was nosy and observant of everything, but that's his job after all. He held the package close to his chest, crumpling the paper and revealing a patch of blue cloth with white patterning.

"Is personal to me. But yes, Mama did send clothes." Heavy said, shuffling back and turned towards to door. Spy raised an eyebrow just as he almost gets whacked in the face by Demoman, thrusting a curvy bottle filled with amber liquid to the heavens.

"Hoooome maaade whiskeeeh!"

Spy looked around the table and saw his teammates with a glow to their smiling faces. Soldier read a letter smattered with dirt while silently mouthing the words. Scout was stuffing his face with cookies while reading a baseball magazine. Sniper was sat down reading a long letter with a the hint of a smirk on his lips. Medic actually had a tear in his eye and hastily wiped it away as he read a letter with a picture enclosed in it. Engineer too was looking at a photo enclosed in a letter, goggles resting on his hard hat.

It was nice to see the team as human beings for once in a while.

* * *

The next day Mother Nature decided to throw down the worst snow storm in recent memory. The snow was at least a foot deep when everyone woke up and the blizzard had receded a little. It was still technically ceasefire until 9 o'clock so both Pyro's went out mutually to melt the snow on the battlefield. They were BLU Scout and RED Engineer to brush the water away before it could freeze into hazardous ice. While they were away, the teams pulled on their scarves and hats and prepared themselves for cold weather fighting.

Heavy toddled into Respawn wearing a thick dark brown ushanka with a yellow star on the forehead and blue knitted mittens with white patterning. He had a large grin plastered on his face as he loaded Sascha full of ammo. Spy sauntered over to him wearing an ornate dark grey peaked hood and a...turtleneck? Heavy thought Spy had a better sense than that.

"So, eet was clothes for winter weather. I knew I was right."

"You were right. But these not ordinary mittens from Mama." Heavy said with a child-like giggle. Perplexed Spy took a closer look at the mittens. Nothing out of the ordinary as far as he could see.

"Whatever do you mean? They are just normal mittens, nozhing special about them." Heavy stepped closer and placed a hand on Spy's shoulder. He could feel a curious tingling but thought nothing of it. Heavy gestured around to his other teammates as Pyro and Scout came back from their snow clearing duties, the others busy with preparations.

"Pick one." Spy narrowed his eyes and stared at Heavy, confused. Heavy smiled even wider and nodded a go-ahead.

"Fine. Hmmm, Monsieur Soldier."

Heavy nodded and tip toed up behind Soldier, loading his rocket launcher with missiles. Spy had to stuff his fists into his mouth to not make a sound; a giant man like Heavy should not be light on his feet. He reached around Soldier's and began tickling him. Soldier jumped in surprise and started laughing hoarsely and uncontrollably, dropping his rockets and clutching his sides. The rest of the team snapped their heads to see quite a scene; Spy trying to stop himself from laughing and Heavy tickling Soldier to within an inch of what his lungs can take.

"Mon dieu! We're-we're going to win zhis battle by tickling! Ahahaha oohhh my god..."

* * *

**And there you go! 6 down and only 3 to go! So, who will be up next? Pyro, Soldier or Medic?**

**Translations: Apologies if any of the translations are wrong, and for some reason I think one of them is. Please tell me if they are, thanks.**

**Russian:**

**_"Мамa? Eto ya. Ty v poryadke? Kak moi sestry?" _- "Mum? It's me. Are you alright? How are my sisters?"**

**_"My delayem khoroshiy mal'chik moy. Vy kazhetes' dovol'no ser'yeznyye, Vse khorosho v Amerike?"_ - "We're all alright my boy. Are you ok, is everything alright in America?"**

**_"Da, da, vse normal'no. Slushayte, yest' koye-chto mne nuzhna vasha pomoshch'..."_ - "Yes, yes, everything is fine. Listen, there's something I need your help with..."**


	7. Pyro

**It's the cute little firebug's turn to cause some silliness :3**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Pyro

Usually when someone wants to repair their weapons, or even their hats, they enlist Engineer's help. As it turned out, he was pretty handy with a needle and thread as well as a wrench. However Pyro didn't trust anyone with handling it's flamethrower, even it's best friend the Texan. It did make the weapon from spare parts years ago and was rather proud and protective of it, as one would be over their child.

Pyro had all its tools (borrowed from Engineer) spread across the table in the living room while idly watching some random cartoon Scout decided to leave on the TV. It was plopped on the floor, legs crossed while tinkering away with fervour on the pilot light. On the sofa opposite Pyro was the resident Australian, engrossed in a hot cup of coffee and today's newspaper. Sniper heard a muffled sound of frustration, he glanced over the top of the paper to see Pyro holding down a secondary lever while pressing the side of its head to the stock of the flamethrower. Raising an eyebrow, Sniper sourced the problem; a weak wheeze of air could be heard from the barrel's mouth.

'Aah, something's wrong with the compressed air.'

"Hey Py. You er, you alrigh' there mate?" Sniper asked in the gentlest way possible, knowing that the flamethrower is it's pride and joy. Pyro looked up and tilted it's head to the side, usually a sign of intrigue and curiosity. Sniper held his breath, he had only ever seen Pyro do that when setting the other team ablaze. Finally the firebug replied.

"Te dmn air blaft ifn't wrking. No clue why." Sniper set the newspaper and cup aside and leaned forward, elbows on knees. He scanned the length of the weapon and pointed to a black bolt.

"Try tightenin' that bolt there. I ain't got a mechanical mind, but usually the simples' things work best." Pyro picked up a medium sized wrench and carefully clamped onto the bolt and twisted it clockwise. Sure enough it tightened quite significantly, if a bit squeakily. Pyro squeezed the air trigger again. Only a slightly stronger puff of air escaped this time. The firebug's shoulder's slumped, letting the trigger go.

"Dammit."

"Have ya taken a gander at the valve in the barrel? Might be rusted or somethin'." Pyro looked at Sniper and crossed it's arms.

"Rst, in a flmefrower? Really, Fnper?" The firebug cocked its head to the side at the latter sentence, Sniper threw his hands up in defence.

"Jus' a thought, Smokey. Thinkin' of possible situations is all." The Australian knew that being in Pyro's vicinity with a weapon of nightmares while it's pissed off is not the smartest of ideas; just because the air blast isn't working doesn't mean the flames are out of order too. Sniper rose to his feet and worked the kinks out in his back.

"I'm gonna make a start on dinner then, leave you to try and work it out. Lets see how the boys loike some Aussie tuckah." Sniper tipped his hat and made for the kitchen before Pyro could protest. The firebug huffed through the air filter heavily and stared at it's flamethrower, deep in thought.

It could not possibly imagine how the weapon could just be this uncooperative all of a sudden. Yesterday it air blasted the RED Scout off a cliff and not two minutes later it tried to do the same for the Medic healing the downed Heavy. This time the blast failed and got a chest full of unsterile needles instead. Later on it got shouted and yelled at by Soldier and Demoman for not extinguishing them. Pyro tried to explain why it couldn't help them with frantic hand gestures and muffled speech, but ultimately they burned to death before they could find aid quick enough. Respawning, Soldier aggressively laid into Pyro about not 'keeping weapons in perfect condition, especially when they are American-made'. Soldier's ignorant enough to not realise Pyro made the flamethrower itself, not that he would take it in anyway.

"I tell yer, nothin' in this cannae compare ter this homebreeew. Ah tha's the stuff." Slurred speech could be heard from just beyond the living room door and it belonged to none other than Demoman. He stumbled through into the room, ignored Pyro and the cluttered table to lean against the open window. He drank long and deep from a different bottle to his usual until he finally noticed the firebug looking the other way, hands tucked under its legs as it rocked to an imaginary rhythm.

"Aye! Ah still want yet knoow why yer couldn't put me out yesterday! Burnin' ter death withoot Quack or health insight and yer refusing ter save me life!" Pyro stopped it's rocking uncrossed it's legs to sit on it's knees, explaining its actions from the battle. Demo blinked and knocked the flamethrower rather heavily with his bottle, creating a small ding in the metal. Pyro was outraged and stood up quickly to shout insults at Demo, rhetorically asking why he did it.

The Scot simply smiled and said; "That'd aboot do ah reckon." In anger Pyro picked the flamethrower up out of instinct, aimed at Demo and held the air trigger.

_Whoosh! _"Aaaaarrgghh!" _Thunk!_

Pyro was breathing like it had just ran a hundred metres while staring blankly at the now-empty window.

"Fniper was rght abut te rust. Oopfs."

* * *

**Only two more mercs to go, the only question is; who will be the next one?**

**Medic or Soldier?**


	8. Medic

**Due to popular demand, here's Medic's turn to entertain the team. Weeeell, not so much entertain but... :P**

**Enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Medic

Oktoberfest. One of only two times in the year where Medic can properly relax and enjoy the occasion to the full, the other being his birthday. The traditional German holiday has been on the doctor's mind for a a good month or so, though he's been too busy to plan and prepare. That being added onto the stress of his usual duties began to wear Medic's patience and concentration down severely. Battles in the morning and part of the afternoon, post-fight check ups and dealing with Soldier for the rest of the afternoon then paperwork well into the evening.

"Ach komm, ich glaube, du Idiot. Werden fünf Fällen genug in diesem Jahr? Letztes Jahr hatten wir sechs, und das war viel ..." Alone in the canteen with paper strewn every which way around him, Medic was looking over his personal financial allowances Mann Co. gave him (and the rest of the team) annually. Paper was everywhere; on the table, on the seat beside him, stuck on the wall, even on the floor where it was accidental brushed off by the doctor. In the dim evening light filtering through the window and the kitchen lights off, he rifled through the stacks of paper with fervour. Silently cursing to himself for leaving the preparation for this year's Oktoberfest so late.

"Ach, schweinhund, wrong document Dummkopf! It's zhis one... First Scout and his knee, zhen Heavy distracting me wihz sandviches. Not to mention Soldier..." He grumbled lowly, scribbling some numbers with a pencil. An infinitesimal shuffle in the absolute silence of the kitchen resonated loud and clear to Medic, he stopped his scribbling and glanced around the room.

"I know you are zhere, Herr Engineer." A light sigh and slippered footsteps could be heard coming closer. Engineer stepped into the dim light from the window and slid into a seat opposite the doctor. With hard hat and goggles missing and a five o'clock shadow, he looks remarkably off-duty, particularly in light blue wrench-decorated pyjamas.

"Guilty as charged Doc. Why ya up at this time at night?" Engineer's curious voice groggy with sleep.

"I could ask you zhe same question. I'm rushing to get everyzhing ready for meine Heimat Oktoberfest." Medic said wearily, taking his glasses off and rubbing his tired eyes.

"Touché, touché. Ya left it a little late this year Doc. Las' year ya had everythin' ready a fortnight beforehand."

"Everyvone has been distracting me. Nozhing more zhan zhat. Now if you vould be so kind..." Medic gestured towards the kitchen doors. Engineer didn't even have to turn around to see what Medic was wanting, so he nodded, stood up slowly and backed away from the table smiling gently.

"O' course Doc. Just don' work yahself through 'till mornin'. Got a loooong day o' drinkin' ahead of us."

"Don't vorry, I'm well practiced in our traditions. I can handle mein alcohol."

"A' righty then. G'night Doc."

"Gute nacht Engie."

* * *

The next evening the team, but mostly Medic, was working at fever pitch to set up the outdoor tables, barbecue, food and drinks before at least 6pm. Finally just on time they finished. Medic had apple strudels, bratwursts, krainerwursts, brezels, sauerbratten and blaukraut ordered especially for the occasion. The beer itself was brought out from the good doctor's secret stash in the infirmary, which never fails to astonish Demoman.

The mini festival was in full swing; music was provided by Engineer and Pyro on guitars with Medic himself on the violin while the rest were tucking into the food and fantastic beer, tapping their feet to the rhythm. It was a good job Medic stockpiled the beer throughout the year, Heavy, Soldier and Scout were going through the beer like a herd of elephants at a small watering hole. Surprisingly Demoman was taking it easy on the alcohol, perhaps because it wasn't his usual Scrumpy or whiskey.

"Meine Freunde!" Medic stopped playing his violin and called to the team, picking up his beer glass. Engineer and Pyro carried on strumming but stopped too after a short while. The team turned to look at their doctor.

"I could not ask for a better group of friends to spend zhis year's Oktoberfest wizh! You have all been quite zhe family to me and I vouldn't trade zhis in for zhe vorld. And for zhat, I zhank you! Zum Wohl!" With that he held up the glass.

"Vive!"

"Vashe zdorov'ye!"

And six "Cheers!" were called out. They all drank long and deep, with the exception of Pyro who had to drink it through a straw. Medic of course finished first, slamming his glass down on the bench table, followed very closely by Heavy then Soldier, Demoman, Sniper, Engineer, Spy and finally Scout. Silence filled the air, save for the crickets until a loud belch broke it. Soldier stood up, threw his arms in the air arrogantly and yelled:

"THAT'S how we do it in America, maggots!" They all laughed heartedly before being interrupted by Medic.

"To have some fun zhis evening, I propose a game. A drinking game, of course."

"Oooh a game! Can I be IT?" Scout asked excitedly, teetering dangerously on the edge of the bench. He was silenced with a swift clap to the back of his head by Sniper.

"I like to call zhis game...German Roulette. Not quite and dangerous as Russian Roulette..."

"This is true. Everything more danger in Mother Russia."

"...But more a lot more fun." Medic walked over to the open kitchen window that faces the courtyard at the back of the base with only the slightest stagger. He gingerly picked up a tray and put it on the table, a set of nine large shot glasses filled with an amber liquid In the centre.

"I have put a razher strong sedative into one of zhese shots. Everyvone must pick a glass at random but must not drink it just yet. Ve vill take it in turn to shoot. Jeder klar?"

Spy picked the first shot, "Anything for a good laugh." Soon everyone had shots in hand.

"Scout. If you vould be so kind." The Bostonian smirked lopsidedly and drank the shot quickly, grimacing at the burn. The team was staring intently at Scout, waiting for something to happen. A few seconds passed and he was still standing.

"Haha ha! How's about that!" Scout slammed his glass onto the table upside down.

"Now you get to pick someone to go next." Medic explained, deciding to lose his tie, gloves and lab coat.

"I pick...Dingo."

"Aight then ya lil' wanker. I ain't goin' down." Sniper too downed his glass with eyes scrunched up. A few tense moments later and he's still awake.

"And tha' is how it's done! And I know whatcha gonna say Doc. I pick Heavy." So the game carried on; Heavy picked Engineer, who picked Soldier, then Pyro, and then Spy. It was only Demoman and Medic himself still to go.

"Ve both down zhese at zhe same time ja?"

"Agreed doctah. See yer in tha mornin'." They were glaring daggers at each other, all in good fun however. Without breaking eye contact, they both swallowed the amber liquid. The tension was palpable, so thick it could almost be felt.

Suddenly Medic crumpled to the ground, like a marionette with its strings cut. The whole team just burst out in furious laughter, some clutching their stomachs, others banging their fists on the table.

"The quack forgot where he put the laced shot! Oh he passed out at his own celebration too!" Scout barely managed to breathe out. "He ain't gonna be too happy in the morning!"

* * *

**Poor Medic :3 And there we have it. Slightly longer than the previous chapters, but I put that down to Medic being my favourite class :3**

**Next chapter will be the last one and belongs to Soldier. Stay tuned.**

**Translations: "Zum Wohl", "Vive" and "Vashe zdorov'ye" all mean Cheers in German, French and Russian respectively.**

**German:**

**_"Ach komm, ich glaube, du Idiot. Werden fünf Fällen genug in diesem Jahr? Letztes Jahr hatten wir sechs, und das war viel ..."_ - "Oh come on you idiot. Will five cases be enough this year? Last year we had six and that was a lot..."**

**_"...meine Heimat Oktoberfest."_ - "...my homeland's Oktoberfest."**

**_"Jeder klar?_" - "Everyone clear?"**


	9. Soldier

**It's been a long road, but we're finally here; the last chapter for _Shenanigans_. Now now don't be saaad, I'm not going anywhere :3 Sorry about the wait, I had a major writer's block with AS results stacked on top of that. Thank you all for sticking with this and for favouriting & following this stack of short chapters :P**

**With that being said, enjoy.**

**VanguardShores**

* * *

Shenanigans

Soldier

"Tell me again why we are at zhe beach Monsieur Sniper"

"I already told ya Spook. We're here 'cos Helmet Head thought we'd need a break, after all the fightin' 'n' stuff."

"But we 'ave just come back from mandatory annual leave. 'Ow on earth did zhe Administrator allow zhis?"

"Now ya just askin' too many questions. You're tha Spoi, go snoop around 'n' find out for ya self."

The team were indeed at the soft-sanded beach, the bright sun glared down and kissed the skins of nine battle hardened mercs. Pyro of course was most covered up, just changing into a thinner suit made of thick baby blue cotton and had taken its gloves off, laying spread-eagled making sand-angels. Scout, Demoman, Engie and Medic were in the salty warm water, either playing tennis or swimming. Heavy was simply sitting on a large towel, digging his feet into the sand whilst deftly sculpting a mini Sand-Sascha. Soldier was standing guard at the shore line, looking around in the swirling water for something while keeping tabs on his team.

"I would do zhat but we 'ave just come back from leave. I 'aven't really 'ad zhe time to settle back in." Spy commented, scratching his still-masked chin. He was a Spy of course; he needed to remain anonymous at all times.

"Guess yer roight. Anyway, come on Spook, we've got some time left to get wet." Sniper said while standing up, stretching and massaging his bare left shoulder.

"Oh really Monsieur Sniper? By what method do you intend to use to make us wet?" Spy crooned with a deep seductive voice, a small smirk played on his thin lips while he waggled his eyebrows. Sniper narrowed his eyes and jerked his head towards the ocean. Spy held his hands up in defence.

"I know I know, just kidding. Zhe water eet is zhen."

Meanwhile Engineer was swimming back to shore with a strong breaststroke. He eyed Soldier standing with his back to the water...stuffing something into his swim shorts? Engineer was confused but decided against questioning Soldier; he'd rather keep all of his toes. Suddenly Soldier turned on the spot and stood to immaculate attention, whilst holding 'crotch'.

"Alright ladies! It's high time we got back to blowing those poncy red ladies right out of Teufort! We've already spent too much time on our asses!" Soldier yelled, oblivious to the ridiculousness of his position. The team turned to look at him, then stared blatantly at his shorts with shocked and mildly disturbed looks on their faces.

"I said OUT! Get out of the water and pack up!" Everyone jumped to their feet and started packing up, most dripping wet. They exchanged looks with each other while trying not to burst out in laughter at Soldier's grip of his short's front. Once they were sufficiently dry and dressed they started to load their bags into Engineer's truck and Sniper's camper can. The team were ready to go, if it wasn't for Scout's last remark of the trip.

"Yo Helmet Head. So er, ya finally found you're 'Original' eh? Didn' think it was that small."

A quick shovel smack to the skull silenced Scout for the next few hours.

Back at Teufort, Soldier was still holding onto his crotch, seemingly desperate to get whatever he had out of his shorts, to put it bluntly. As soon as Sniper pulled up behind the base Soldier jumped out and comically ran like he needed the toilet towards the heavy steel door. He threw it open with an amazing amount of force and dissapeared inside. Demoman turned to Heavy.

"Yer doon't suppose summat had a good chomp on his goolies d'ya? Walkin' like he han't pissed since last October."

"What is 'goolies'?" Heavy questioned the dark skinned man.

"Yer know; yer junk, family jewels, shlong, the auld chestnuts. No?" Demoman motioned quite openly and vigorously. Medic caught the action out of the corner of his eye and facepalmed.

"Aaaaah I see now. Many names for it in English, very confusing for me." Heavy nodded sage-like and threw the still unconscious Scout over his shoulder. Everyone took their bags out of the truck & van and headed inside, Pyro toddling off to the kitchen to start work on dinner.

* * *

The early hours of the next morning were beautiful; the birds were singing, a cool dew covered what little vegetation there was and a light mist stretched out into the distant horizon in the desert. But the serenity was shattered on the BLU side by a low, very loud, reverberating wail. It shook the thin walls of the bedroom corridor, again and again it sounded seemingly getting louder as time went on.

"Wakey wakey maggots! It's 05:30 and training starts in 10 MINUTES! Hear the sound of the tropics!" Soldier shouted marching up and down the corridor. He blew again and the wail vibrated some dust off a ceiling lamp. Suddenly Engineer threw open his door and scanned the outside, quickly finding Soldier.

"What in tarnation d'ya think ya doin' son? Battle don't start 'til 9 o'clock." A very sleepy Engineer berating Soldier.

"You can sleep when you're DEAD, and it's for the WEAK! That's why people are dead, BECAUSE they were weak! Now to the mess hall Engie, you're on kitchen duty!" Soldier pointed down the hall while stoically standing to attention. Opposite Engineer's room was Spy, who angrily popped his head out of the door.

"Do you really have to blow zhat putain coquillage? Just knocking would be sufficient to wake zhe team." Spy begin to retreat back into his room but stopped. "Also, I do 'ope you washed zhat. Eet was down your shorts yesterday of course."

"None of your damn business what I do in my own time Crouton! The Concheror will strike fear into the hearts of those RED bastards!" Soldier looked livid. He turned his back on both Engineer and Spy and quick-marched down the corridor, blowing his Concheror again. A muffled voice could be heard, and it could only be identified as a groggy and upset Scout.

"What the fuck man!? Knock that shit off, god!"

* * *

**Hopefully you understood Scout's 'Original' reference? If you did then congrats, if not, I'm sure someone'll explain it :P**

**Thanks for the support and suggestions guys and gals, see you all next time :)**

**Translations:**

**French:**

**_"...putain coquillage?..."_ - "...damn shell?..."**


End file.
